Promise me Sincere Vows
by Lady Betsy
Summary: Adelaide "Ella" Ashford is a strong willed, intelligent, self opinionated and independent 17 year old. Her dreams of being the Renaissance woman quickly shattered when her parents set her into an arranged marriage. Inspired by various works including many works of Jane Austen.


The story _Promise me Sincere Vows _is originally based on no movies, TV shows or books unless I say so. Other than that, it may just be purely coincidental. Though just to avoid any trouble in advance, I do have to warn you that some parts may resemble any of Jane Austen's work and some characters may be resemble some traits or names of characters in video games, movies, or other stories—just things that may stick in my head and inspired me when I'm just going about my daily life. For instance, Leon was inspired by Resident Evil's Leon Kennedy. This story was really inspired from a dream I had several nights ago. It tends to happen to me for some strange reason. Hopefully I can stick to this story to the end.

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"_Ella, you're getting married."_

Living in this world for 17 years, I have never felt utterly betrayed by my own parents. My heart felt as if it were to give up on me completely and shatter itself into pieces. To compensate, I began to unconsciously take in more oxygen into my lungs than necessary, and exhaled deeply and rapidly.

Anger. It was anger that filled me up completely. And I had a good reason to be angry, as a matter of fact. I knew I am an obedient child, and I won't brag but I had exceptional intelligence and wit. But what I did not understand was how my parents had come to a conclusion to marry me off to some stranger. By the way, did I ever mention that this was the 20st century? YES. The T-W-E-N-T-I-E-T-H century. It's about time there was some law that forbids this, but clearly not.

I was not one to cry. Hell, I was not one to show much emotion except when I'm angry. Everyone knew I had one hell of a temper. However, despite my fury, I was able to maintain it in front of my parents but I knew I could never underestimate it and concluded that I should leave. Without another word , I stood up and headed to my room to isolate myself for the rest of the evening.

The knocks and pleads on my door in attempts to get me back out ceased in just a few hours. I don't usually disobey my parents this way but a teenage daughter has her own limits as well and this was one of them.

Night dawned quickly as I wasted my time lying on my bed unsure of what to think or how to react to all this resulting in the company of insomnia. I wasn't too sure what to think of my soon-to-be-"husband." Is he old? Is he younger than me? Is he good looking? Ugly? Tall? Short? The thought of his appearance, without a doubt, was more than frustrating. What about school? Am I supposed to be stuck as a housewife and become into a breeding machine? The idea did not appeal to me. Ever since I was little, I was dreamer. I wanted to be so many things. I wanted to open my own orphanage, to be a pediatrician, to become an author and write a bestselling novel, to be a movie director. But most importantly, I wanted to become a member of the Parliament so I can advocate laws for young women like myself to be granted more freedom. All in all, I want to be the Renaissance woman. My parents used to be supportive of my aspirations, sending me to the finest academy in London, making sure I had the best education that would guide me to becoming what I wanted. What happened? How could they change their minds so quickly?

That night, I allowed myself to shed some tears; my own sobs finally lulled me to sleep and let the troubles dissolve itself temporarily.

The sun rose swiftly than I had expected and I was certainly not pleased with its presence. Hours had seemed like minutes as I was unwillingly dragged on my feet to get ready. Little did I know that my morning could get any worse, my mother had decided to humor me by informing me that my 'wedding' will be taking place in two weeks exactly. At this point, there was no point in projecting my rage to her. It felt futile. I was getting married to a complete stranger in fourteen days, and that was that. Besides, I can never say 'no' to being pampered like a princess.

The appointment was set at lunch; however, having a paranoid father, we arrived more than an hour early. Rather than having an impressive first impression, I learned at a young age that this behavior had only caused me embarrassment. We sat for a good hour or more before the '_master'_ was ready to see us. We walked a few flights of stairs and several corridors before we arrived to the actual dining room, not to mention the fact we were informed that the '_master'_ was waiting. I was more than appalled with their treatment. We stand a level lower in class compared to them but I had a reason to believe that they should have treated us with a bit more respect; we were considered upper class after all.

Upon arrival, we were sweating and huffing from the travel; however, we composed ourselves quickly, and took our places in the designated seats. Though my parents had seemed to recover fast from our little exercise, my heart beat rapidly and felt my own body radiating heat. I was nervous. _Oh God…Was this the man I'm supposed to marry? _All I saw was a man who was old enough to be my grandfather sitting at the end of the table. His corpulent appearance symbolized his status: Obese, Greedy, and Intolerable. Now you may think I'm being stereotypical by judging on his appearance but let me tell you…he is in NO WAY shape or form a man I would even want to have a conversation with, let alone consummate this whole marriage thing. I shuddered and pushed the idea away. I sat quietly and observed him conversing with my parents. The way he talked with such arrogance and sarcasm, it was clear that he was passively trying to deflate my father's ego, in particular. I was too busy analyzing his tone that I wasn't too sure of the gist of their conversation until the word 'son' caught my attention.

Before I could process anything else, everyone's attention focused on to the door as it opened and out came one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen. To be more precise, this was the most gorgeous man I have seen. My sight was examining every part of him; Muscular arms which were selfishly concealed by the coat he was wearing, soft blonde hair that I would love to run my fingers through, and oh those grey eyes that I wouldn't mind immersing myself into. Well damn, my hormones are set to overdrive. I haven't even formally introduced myself and I'm already having daydreams about having sex with him.

"Ahh…Mr. and Mrs. Ashford, I'd like you to meet my son. Leon." The old man's voice harshly snapped me out of my trance, fortunately, before it went too far. I, clumsily, tried to move up from my chair to curtsy out of respect. "Pleasure to meet you Lord Noble." My mother spoke modestly. _Lord Noble? Well this is just getting more absurd._ I sighed quietly in hopes no one noticed.

Just when we were seated, another man comes in. Unfortunately, Leon…or rather Lord Leon has put him to shame. This man was shorter in stature, a little more on the scrawny side in my opinion. Certainly someone I do not see myself marrying. "And here he is…my youngest son, Christopher." The master patted his son proudly on the shoulder as he approached. "What do you think Miss Ashford?" His sudden call for my attention alarmed me. _No way in damnation will I marry him. _ I breathed a little heavy as I knew what he was implying. I was intended to marry him, not Leon. I smiled nervously before approaching my future husband. I quickly curtsied and tried to avoid as much eye contact with Christopher as possible. I sighed sadly as the thoughts of Leon would only become mere dreams that would never happen. "Lord Noble." I forced myself to put on a façade and smiled as if I was the happiest woman on the galaxy.

"Milady" Christopher spoke and took my hand placing it gently on his lips, his eyes not taking them off of me.

In just a blink of an eye, I swear it was quick that I did not have enough time to process it, I saw Christopher's hand, in the corner of eye, make its way across my cheek. It did sting but it was tolerable. Rather than fury, I was lost in confusion. _What the hell was that for?_ Before I knew it, I was pulled out back to consciousness. Breathing heavily, I panicked only to see my mother sitting by my bedside.

I placed my hand on my hot cheek, which was evidently slapped.

"I'm sorry, my love. But you weren't waking up." My mother reasoned her action.

At this point, I wasn't too sure what to feel; relieved that I was marrying this Christopher that I hope don't exist, disillusioned by the fact Leon was a mere figment of my imagination or worried that I might marry someone like Christopher?

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With love,

Lady Betsy


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